


black and honeyed

by lqbys



Series: rather you than tequila [4]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fucking Eggs, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-23 20:56:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18709831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lqbys/pseuds/lqbys
Summary: Over the years, Mingyu hates a lot of things, even more people, but the feeling takes a whole new dimension when his world collides with Minghao’s.





	black and honeyed

Over the years, Mingyu unfolds every layer there can possibly be to the feeling of hatred. He learns that it’s a tangible thing, unstable and pliant under one’s will, and you can shape it any way you desire.

He hated his caretaker and her tight ponytails. Her face was always stoic, eyes stone-cold: she did her job almost mechanically, detached. There was no warmth in her voice, no sympathy in her eyes to the point Mingyu suspects it somehow ended up bleeding onto him, that she’s the reason why he lacked sympathy is so many ways it certainly needed hours and hours therapy. He hated the way his mother kissed his cheeks so quickly, always promising things she knew she couldn’t give him before walking out of the mansion’s huge doors. He hated his father's wine collection though it never stopped him for stealing the best of his Bordeaux rouge to drink it all by myself. He hated school, the stares and whispers, teachers’ pity, every book he read but didn’t remember anything about, kicks and punches, above all—Hong Jisoo. Hated everyone, everything.

Over the years, Mingyu hates a lot of things, even more people, but the feeling takes a whole new dimension when his world collides with Minghao’s.

They don’t get along, not in the way people expect them to. Mingyu doesn’t really get it: there’s no need to like or agree with whatever Minghao thinks and says to manage a somehow stable domestic life. They live together, shout and fight more often than not, but they always manage. As for Minghao, he doesn’t care much, but guesses he’s just in for the money and the sex: nothing new under the sun here.

They still are not friends.

‘Where are the goddamn eggs.’

Mingao doesn’t bat an eye. He keeps reading the morning paper, his cup of coffee warming up his hands. They’ve been up all night, arguing about things they’d forget about in the morning, and Minghao has got enough of Mingyu for the entire week. Goddamned fucking eggs.

‘Hao.’ 

Mingyu’s voice always drops octaves lower when he’s pissed, when Minghao does what he’s doing right now. Ignoring him. Minghao’s lips thin into a pinched line.

Looking up, he sees him standing beside the fridge, holding its door open in all his naked, sun-kissed glory. The sight of red markings of teeth against skin on his shoulders reminds Minghao of last night; they fucked at some point when the yelling and fighting evolved into sexual tension— some kind of hate-sex thing they’ve grown accustomated to. 

Arguments and sex come hand in hand, a package of two never to be dissociated. The order doesn’t matter: one always leads to the other, then things fall back to place and Minghao goes back to pretending he’s enjoying their life just the way it is.

His answer carries neither the warmth he should feel nor the senseless anger boiling under his skin. ‘Here.’ 

Mingyu’s eyes narrow. He scratches idly at the mess of old scars against his ribcage. They fight, they yell, but things don’t really change. Minghao still wakes up before the sun is up and cooks them both breakfast like an automatism. 

Plopping down in the chair next to Minghao, Mingyu eyes the plate of omelet suspiciously. Restraint fades quickly, though—it’s seconds before he starts wolfing down his food. 

‘You should stop that,’ Mingyu says.

‘What,’ Minghao asks flatly.

‘Chuckin’ back whiskey like it ain’t eight in the morning.’ 

Minghao looks at him in the eye before finishing the last of his coffee full of whiskey in one gulp.

‘Tell me again tomorrow to see if I fucking care,’ he spits. 

Mingyu chews on his food and decides it’s best he ignores that. Minghao decides it’s best he ignores him for the rest of the day.


End file.
